Sometimes You Just Need to Ask

You mean that’s it?

I just needed to ask some poetry to come and crawl into my head?

I knew that; I really did, but I had forgotten. I have had the experience of asking for a poem to get past the fragment stage and having it happen within a day or two. It seems counterintuitive that creativity, that most capricious of things, should be at my beck and call.

But it’s true. To a degree, it is responsive to my requests when they are made humbly and honestly.

Prayer, in its most primal form, is a formal statement of desire and intention. It takes an inchoate longing and frames it into a concrete wish (or states for the record that one needs help figuring out what the wish is.)

Any time I ask for something in a way that draws aside the curtain of pride and shows my truest need, I am praying.  By praying, I make room for something numinous to answer.

Lover, Come Back To Me

Dear Poetry,

Come back to me. I miss you so much.
I never meant to make you think you don’t matter.
I never meant to imply, not even for a second,
That I don’t need you to survive this life.

Come back to me. You know you want to.
You want to see your beauty reflected in my face.
You want to hear your words anew in the way they touch me.
You want to know the old words as eternal and make me birth fresh ones.

You want to humble me; to tear out the truth.
You want to see me spread it out before you in its imperfect flesh.
You want to taste it; share it, paint it on my face.
You want me wearing you for all to see.

I want it too. Come back to me. Return
To our strange home upon the hill,
The one I leave so dusty when I’m sick.
Oh love, come, and if I am lost and not there
Call to me until I must obey.